Nothing in Common
by Thescarredman
Summary: Some of the shipgirls are united by their common differences.


"I'm telling you," Said Kongou peevishly, "it doesn't make any sense. The Fleet already has most of the Big Seven. We ask the Americans for help, and what do they send us? Another battleship." In a hideously exaggerated drawl like a yowling cat, she went on, "Howdy, y'all! Your worries are over, 'Murica's here to save the day! Just show me where to point mah guns!"

Across the narrow cafeteria table, Tatsuta lifted her cup in both hands, considering her options as she watched the dining hall fill up for the midday meal. Kongou's usual upbeat, almost-manic attitude was nowhere to be seen today; she had obviously come here to vent. The simplest course would simply be to nod her head as she ate until the battleship wound down. But the morning had been deadly dull: Tenryuu was off on a field excursion with some of her brats right now, depriving Tatsuta of her favorite targets. And a pissed-off Kongou was an entertaining Kongou…

"'American aid will be an asset beyond price in our fight against the Abyssals,'" Tatsuta quoted. "'Iowa is only the first of many.' Remember the Admiral's speech at the assembly, before she came? When he told us all to be nice to her?" She sipped and went on, "She's very good in battle, I hear. The Admiral seems pleased with her. He praises her to me quite often, and studies her file every day."

The battleship-girl scowled. "He does?"

Tatsuta nodded. "I haven't read it myself," she said, smiling down into her cup, "but it seems to have a lot of pictures." From across the table she could hear, faintly, the hiss of escaping steam. _Citadel hit_ , she thought, and loaded her next salvo. "Really, she's so energetic and upbeat, it's hard not to like her. None of the other battleships seem to have a problem with her. She practice shoots with Yamato all the time. Even Katori doesn't have a word to say against her."

"That's because she's terrified of her," Kongou said, leaning forward. "Have you _seen_ them talking together? That blonde bimbo has _no_ concept of personal space. She just looms over her, pushing those monstrosities in her face. One sudden turn, and the poor thing would be boob-slapped into tomorrow."

Tatsuta briefly considered the fun that might have ensued if, instead of Iowa for their first American, the Fleet had received Arizona – or Enterprise. "You have very nice breasts, Kongou," she said. "You don't need to be jealous."

"I'm _not -_ " She lowered her voice. "I'm not jealous. It's just part of the whole ridiculous package. She's a walking collection of stupid stereotypes. The All-American Girl, with too much of everything. Tall as a park statue, to give those absurdly long legs some proportion. Big blue eyes with lashes long enough to feel the breeze when she flutters them. Blonde hair down to her butt, of course, to balance out those outrageous chest pillows, desu. And-"

Tatsuta smiled over Kongou's shoulder. "Good afternoon, Bismarck."

"Good afternoon," said the gray-clad Valkyrie in her throaty German accent. She stood with a meal tray between her hands, the edge pressed to her ribs beneath the shelf of her ample bust; her sky-blue eyes rested on Kongou and the empty chair beside her for a cool three seconds before she moved on.

"That's not the same," Kongou went on, blushing. "Bismarck knows what modesty is. But _some_ people around here have to just _flaunt_ themselves in outfits that show everything they've got. That stupid top puts her boobs on display like they're under a glass counter in a pawnshop. It's a wonder she can take three steps without them jumping out and…" Her voice trailed off as a well-tanned hand gripped the top of the chair back beside her.

Musashi leaned slightly over the chair to place her tray on the table; the other two girls sat transfixed as the four-inch-wide cloth wound around her epic chest strained to its very limit to contain the big battleship's impossibly large mammaries, which bulged out above and below the tape's confines. She straightened, pulled the chair out, and bent almost parallel to the table to sit; Kongou and Tatsuta held their breath, unable to look away. But the big blonde finally settled in and scooted her chair forward, making the other two girls' eyeballs jiggle, and picked up her chopsticks. "What were you two just talking about?"

Tatsuta smiled into her cup, ignoring Kongou's warning glare. "Kongou doesn't think much of Iowa's work clothes."

"As long as she keeps getting the job done, she can go into battle naked for all I care," said Musashi, shoveling her meal in. "What's wrong with what she wears?"

"I … er …" Kongou's eyes lit. "The colors! Why does she have to wrap herself in the flag like that? I bet she even has Old Glory underwear. It's not like she could hide where she comes from if she tried – she says three words, you know she's an American. She speaks Japanese like she's talking around a mouthful of corn bread." She went on, "We're supposed to be an international force. Nationality shouldn't be given a chance to divide us."

Musashi looked over the rims of her glasses, past Tatsuta's shoulder. In the next aisle, her sister Yamato stood talking to a table full of Shiratsuyu-class destroyers. The snowy silk of her kimono-style tunic glowed, even in the indifferent light of the overhead fluorescents, and the golden chrysanthemum at her throat sparked with her every movement. She finished and glided away like a swan on a still lake, a faint train of cherry blossoms drifting to the floor in her wake.

The big blonde brushed a thumb across an identical ornament at her own throat. "Well, it can be overdone, I suppose, but there's nothing wrong with being proud of where you come from."

A pair of hands descended on Kongou's shoulders. Iowa said, "Kongo-Bongo, you are _here_! I am looking over all the base for you." Her accent really was wince-inducing, but her voice was quite pleasant, Tatsuta thought. The big battleship leaned over in a breathtaking display of cleavage before pressing her breasts into Kongou's shoulder. She turned her head to avoid entangling their headgear, which placed her lips almost against Kongou's. "Our date. Did you forget? You promised."

Kongou stared across the table at nothing, avoiding everyone's eyes. "I didn't promise," she said. "Exactly."

"Oh, bull _shit_ ," she said good-naturedly in English. In Japanese she went on, "My first tea ceremony. You promised to teach, explain everything. Time to go." She squeezed Kongou's shoulders, almost lifting her out of the chair, and took her hand. "We have to run, maybe."

"If I run, I'll trip over my sleeves. And if you run, you'll knock yourself out."

Iowa chuckled and towed the other battleship toward the door.

Musashi paused with her laden chopsticks halfway to her lips. "Did she make fun of her Engrish or something?"

"I wouldn't be surprised." Tatsuta raised her cup and drained it, but held it to her lips to hide her smile. "I doubt it was intentional. She doesn't seem the type. Besides, her command of our language isn't good enough for use as a weapon."

Musashi leveled a hard look at her, as threatening as a turret lining up on a target. "Don't give her any lessons."


End file.
